So Close, Yet So Far
by Silver Fists
Summary: Just a week or so after the Newsies strike a troubled character named Silver Fists is brought in by one of the newsies, she saves a kid's life and falls in love, but has to give it all up when she finds out her far away past, is actually quite close.
1. Prologue

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So Close, Yet So Far  
By: 'Alisha "Silver Fists" Sherway'

Prologue

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Oh Lord, please help me mama and I. Y'ave been less than kind to us all our lives, ain't it time to give us a break? First, ya took mama's fam'ly away from 'er. Then ya let 'er fall in love with a man who was nothin' but a drunken pig! Lord, ya looked on as 'e beat us e'ry night and how 'e would find us e'ry time we ran away, and ya did nothin'. Ya let 'im ruin or lives, scarin' e'ry one away from our fam'ly. Worst of all, ya still kept mama in love with 'im. What 'ave we done to deserve all this, Lord? Jist please, let us get away, don't let 'im find us this time, ple-…

"Sarah! Don't leave me, Sarah!" plead an angry and somewhat drunken voice a few feet behind, on the street.

The woman he addressed quickened her pace, dragging her short daughter after her. The two were terrified, but there was no turning back now from the road they have chosen. Before them was the cargo barge, transporting illegal immigrants from Ireland to America and behind, well, there was the drunken slob of their husband and father respectively. Finding a temporary hiding place for the two of them, Sarah crouched before her daughter with tears in her eyes.

"Cara Kathryn McCaleigh, Ah can't go with ya darlin', yer papa needs me. Now ya go on and live yer life well, Ah know ya can do it. Ah'll love ya forever child, and Ah'll always be with you in yer heart, now go, 'afore-…"

"Sarah! I'll kill ya, if ya don't git over here now!" yelled the drunken voice again.

"Go child, Ah'll be fine", whispered Sarah tightly hugging her daughter and slipping a piece of paper, that was her ticket, into her hand and a thin chain with a locket onto her neck. 

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Lord, Ah asked ya NOT to do that! 'E's gonna kill mama the moment 'e sees 'er, yer not bein' fair, Lord! Ya can torture me as much as yer heart desires after, just make 'er happy fer once.

As Cara made her way through the shadows to the boat, Sarah headed the other way, to her husband. Stopping for a few moments, the girl watched her mother disappear.

"Ya been hidin' agin Sarah?" angrily questioned her father from around the corner.

"No Charles, Ah was only tryin' to git our daughter back. She ran off after some stray and wouldn't come when Ah called. Ah couldn't find 'er, so Ah come back to ya…darlin'" easily lied Sarah. After many years of living with him, she had learned to do so well, her life had been saved many times by a good lie.

"Ya ran after 'er pretty far, considerin' we live all the way on the other side 'a town." Charles did not buy the lie for the first time; he must have been a little more sober than usual.

Cara heard him pause and take a loud swig of the rum he always carried with him in a small glass bottle. With a loud smack from his lips he smashed the bottle against a stone porch near him. The bottle smashed into hundreds of small pieces, leaving its neck, rimmed with razor sharp remains of it in his fist. 

"This…this is tha last toime ya run awai frem me, ya…ya wench!" he slurred, as Cara imagined him moving closer to her mother, pressing her against the cold wall of a building.

"No Charles, please! Ah came back ta ya, dinn' Ai? Git away! GOD, Charles, git AWAY!" Cara shut her eyes, ready for the inevitable.

__

Lord, ya really can't hear me can ya? Ah asked ya to make 'er happy! Then agin…Ah guess ye'r right Lord, this 's the only way she'll be happy. No more pain, no more beatin's, no more runnin' fer 'er. Ah hope she gits into heaven all right, take care 'a her, Lord.

Cara ran as fast as her heavy boots would allow, before her drunken father got to her. Nearing the ship she heard a loud, bloodcurdling scream from behind the buildings. At the top of the ramp she slipped her ticket quietly to the sailor, who looked down at the shaking girl somewhat questioning and somewhat knowing. She knew that it was obvious to him the scream was of someone important to her. Cara nodded her head with tears forming in her eyes and quickly made her way in the direction the sailor pointed her to. She crept down a rusty set of stairs and found herself in almost pitch blackness of the hull, with small islands of candlelight surrounded by hunched figures. Several dirty faces turned to look at her, they were faces of families, whole families. The girl could barely keep herself from crying as she saw more families huddled together while she settled herself into the darkest nook in the hull. A few minutes later a sailor appeared at the top of the stairs.

"We 'ave to leave now", he whispered loudly and slowly, as if concentrating on his pronunciation "We can't wait for anyone else, much less take anyone on board now. There is an armed drunk shoutin' outside, he might'a caused some trouble a while back, and seeing people scutter in on board may make 'im cause more." he paused for a moment and continued with the accent he had been trying to hide earlier, " 'S toime we'se got goin ta New Yawk."

Cara quietly sobbed, trying not to bother anyone about her. She knew that everyone else was in the same mood as her, just like that she wasn't the only one on board running away from a horrible life. In fact, she was quite sure that the people around here had that precise reason to be there. Her tears brought a wave of exhaustion onto her body. She remembered that she had not gotten any sleep all week, as she and her mother went all over the city trying to escape Charles Ryan McCaleigh, her father. All that running seemed a waste to her now, since he had found them anyway. The girl drifted off into uneasy sleep between freely flowing tears and images of her mother flashing in her mind.

* * *

Only a few days later did the weight of losing her mother settle in Cara's heart. It happened one evening, when some of the passengers were allowed to come up to the deck for a little fresh air. Cara had made it up to see the pink and purple of the sunset. It made her remember how her mother and she would come out of their hiding places at sunset and would resume running from the night before. Every night it was the same, trying to get as close to the port as they could. And now, despite all the efforts, her mother was dead. That flood of painful memories made her burst into more angry tears as she ran back down the stairs. Blind to everything, Cara accidentally ran straight into the sailor that she met the first night, making him curse quietly. Though seeing her in tears he stopped immediately. He walked her down the rest of the stairs, to a pile of blankets, sat her down on them and made her tell him everything. He patiently let her cry at some points of her story, holding her comfortingly about the shoulders as she got to the part of her mother's death. She could not stop the tears streaming from her eyes, and the sailor let her weep and then doze off on his shoulder. He carried her to her usual spot and wrapped a blanket about her.

"Hope New Yawk gives yas a bettuh chance ta stait ovah" he whispered wiping a tear from her cheek.

* * *

"Good luck to yas, Cara! Ya's a great goil! Remember, if ya's in any grave dangah, ya can try ta look fo' me heah, or any a' me pals'll help ya, if yas tell 'em yer Sam's friend" the sailor gave her a quick, one-armed hug and dropped a couple of nickels into her palm. The next moment, Cara was standing on the cobblestone ground of New York.

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Lord, please be kind ta me, ya know Ah done nothin' bad to ya.

She looked around, taking in her surroundings, and took off at a slow pace toward a lamp-lit street.

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Land of opportunity and new beginnin's, hear that Lord, for once Ah think Ah deserve a break, don't you?

Alone with her thoughts Cara did not pay much attention to the time passing by as she aimlessly walked down the streets of New York. She also hadn't noticed as she walked into an alley and the two sets of footsteps quietly following her. She did not sense anything wrong until a dark shape of a young man in a bowler hat appeared out of nowhere before her. She stood dug into her spot watching as he swung his fist behind his head, the light of the street lamp glinted off something metal covering his knuckles. A terrible pain, similar to that of her father's beatings, exploded in her stomach as the man's fist dug deep into it. She doubled over, unclenching her fist and dropping the nickels. The coins never touched the ground, as another young man, in an identical bowler hat, who was behind her the entire time, caught them in mid-air. Staring in shock at the second man, Cara did not see the first attacker swing his fist again, she just felt a heavy punch to the side of her jaw, and tasted blood as she bit the inside of her cheek. She felt herself flying through midair, hearing a faint whistle, which scared her attackers into a run. She landed on her side on the cobblestones. Like a lightning flash, pain shot through her skull, where it hit the ground. Then, all was black.


	2. Part I

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Part I

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'Mama!' A little redheaded girl ran down a muddy road, her red hair tossing in the breeze behind her and the sun playing in it. The girl laughed innocently as a thin, tall brunette swept her up in a loving embrace. She wrapped her small arms about the woman's neck, giggling as the woman covered her face with kisses. 

'Mama, stop it' she giggled again. 

'Oh Cara, darlin' where were ya hidin' this time?' The woman inquired, letting her down on the ground and lightly ruffling her hair.

'Ah…Ah was right behind ya, mama, Ah wanted ta stop 'im, but he hurt me bad' the girl watched her mother sink to her knees noticing bruises on her arms and face. Both were now older and her mother's face was covered in worried wrinkles. 'Why is he like that, mama? Why does he hurt us so much?' the girl cradled her mother, sitting by her on the floor. A loud crashing noise came from behind her, as a burly man turned over a table. The wood walls of her old house now became the stone walls of buildings around them on a cobblestone street. The brunette hugged her fifteen-year-old daughter.

'Yer papa needs me darlin'' the woman whispered tearfully as a pair of large arms appeared out of the blackness grabbing her and pulling her away. 

'MAMA!' the girl tried running after her mother, tried grabbing her hand, but her red hair tangled and got into her eyes. It was redder than ever, thick and dark. Her mother was gone; the girl could not even hear her screams, only the soft plopping of raindrops on the cobblestones around her. She slowly wiped her hair out of her eyes to find that it was actually blood, thick and dark. Confused, Cara tried sitting up, but her head spun too much, making her fall back onto the cobblestones. She could not remember where she was, her father must have found her again, and beat her right on the street. She wondered why her mother had not yet found her; she was usually always there. Cara weakly fumbled at the collar of her shirt, searching for the locket she remembered her mother giving her, but it was gone. Then, she remembered. Her mother was dead, killed by her own father, and she was lying in an alley in New York, robbed and beaten up by some pigs in bowler hats. The girl weakly pulled herself up, sobbing uncontrollably. Her head spun as she got up on her feet, and her stomach burned. She was quite used to such beatings, since her father enjoyed taking his drunken anger out on her and her mother, but she was too weak and tired to handle such pain at the moment. The rain grew heavier, washing the blood and dirt off her face. Supporting herself by holding on to the wall, Cara stumbled out of the alley and onto the large street. There was nobody around, whom she could ask for help, for it was much too wet for anyone's liking. A few carriages passed by, splashing her with water from the deep puddles on the road, they were in too big a hurry to get to their destinations to notice her. She stumbled on, toward a large bridge ahead.

* * *

The Brooklyn Newsboys Lodging House was no more than an old warehouse filled with bunk beds and housing a couple dozen boys aged between seven and seventeen. All of them were either asleep or engrossed in a card game, savoring their day off, due to the rain. Some were unfortunate enough to have gone out that day to work, they returned soaked to the bone, having sold very few newspapers, and were warming up by a small stove, which heated the entire place. A boy looked over them all with a menacing, yet satisfied look. Everything was fine, as it always was. He slid his gray cap down to cover his eyes, as he lay back on a bunk, standing in the far corner of the room, freed for his use by a little kid. He did not have enough time to fall asleep, as a loud knock sounded at the door and a dripping wet boy of ten burst inside. He peered at the scene from beneath his hat, slightly irritated. The small boy dropped his soggy newspapers near the door, and made his way toward the bunk in the farthest corner.

"Spot, deah's somethin' outside" he said quietly, slightly scared of his leader.

"Yeah, 's called rain" Spot snapped back pulling his cap further down over his eyes.

"No, deah's a poison out deah, I'se think a goil" he said even more quiet than before. "I'se think she's hoit." 

Spot pulled his cap back up, jumped off is bunk and wordlessly grabbed the boy dragging him back out into the rain. The small boy needed no orders, he knew what his leader wanted, and lead him to the place where he had seen the person earlier.

* * *

Cara collapsed, leaning against the wall of a dark warehouse. She was too dizzy to keep walking, and her weak legs would not support her weight. The rain created a curtain all about her, deafening any sounds and shutting out anything about her. Her sobs rocked her frail body and her stomach and jaw still ached. The blood had stopped pumping from a small wound she discovered on the side of her head, or maybe the rain was just so hard, it kept washing it away before it could clot. Cara closed her eyes, wishing her father had found her that night, and killed her as well, all her suffering would have been over already.

"Lord, Ah asked ye to give me a break, why can't yajust let me die?" she whispered, unconscious of the fact that she said it out loud.

"Sorry kid, he don't hear so good up theah" a hand rested on her shoulder. 

The voice was cold yet comforting, and the hand stiff yet not heavy, like her father's. Along with the voice, a boy with icy blue eyes appeared before her. He crouched, his hand resting on a gold-topped cane that he used to keep his balance. 

The small, sobbing heap, by the wall of his Lodging House, was indeed a girl. Her oversized clothes stuck wetly to her body, revealing protruding shoulder bones, ribs and joints. Her large gray shirt was quite worn and her dark green skirt was almost a shade of black from the dirt of the ship's hull. She looked like she had not eaten properly for a long time and her face spoke of a recent beating. Her jaw was swollen a dark shade with an open cut in the middle, where she must have been hit with something metal. There were also clumps of blood stuck by her hairline that had not been washed away by the rain, they meant a cut somewhere on her head. She looked at Spot with dull green eyes framed by tired bags and bloodshot from crying, she was too weak to express any emotion, or reaction. 

"I know" she whispered hoarsely and fainted into his arms.

* * *

After a brisk walk, somewhat slowed down by the heavy rain and the burden of a small girl cradled in his arms, Spot arrived to a shabby building with a sign "Newsboys Lodging House" over the door. He was in Manhattan. He walked up the stairs and into the small lobby where he was greeted by an old man, Mr. Kloppman, who was the manager of the place. Spot stood by the check-in desk, while the old man went upstairs to fetch one of the boys. 

"Heya Spot, I'se see yas got yerself a new goil" teased a tall boy with a bandanna on his neck as he walked down the stairs with Kloppman behind him. He frowned as he walked up closer and saw the girl's bruised face. "What 'appened?"

"I'se found 'er on da street…I don't do charity Jackie-boy, das why I'se brought 'er heah" he shoved the girl into Jack's arms. "'Foah she passed out she said she wanted ta die, can't blame 'er, many do in dis city." Spot turned to leave "Oh, an' I'se thinks she's new, 'er accent's poitty heavy"

Jack watched his friend step out into the rain once more. He shook his head disapprovingly 

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Spot nevah did risk lookin' like a carin' poison, but even so, 't least he dinna leave 'er out on de street. 

He was appalled looking down at the girl in his arms. He had seen kids come in beat up before, but never a girl, and rarely that badly. Kloppman was standing nearby the entire time, and when Jack turned around, he lead him to a small room under the staircase that none of the boys ever knew existed. Jack found out it was made as a storage area, but there was never much to store, since nobody in the Lodging House could afford anything of such caliber. The little area under the stairs was roomier than Jack first expected, it freely fit a small bed, that seemed to have been there since the place was built, and a chair that Kloppman brought in from his office. While Kloppman was setting the room up, Jack managed to call Silver away from her quiet reflections up on the roof, to come down and help with the new girl. Silver, full nickname Silver Fists, was a tall girl of sixteen, who had also arrived recently. Nothing was known of Silver's past before she met the newsies, except that she was an amazing nurse. Seeing the girl shivering in the small bed in a candle-lit room underneath the stairs, Silver forgot her worries and quickly got to work. 

When the tall girl came up into the bunkroom again, the lights were out and everyone was asleep. Knocking her boots off, she quickly slipped into her bed, without changing and tried not to think of the little redheaded girl downstairs, who stood little chance of surviving. 

* * *

She did not sleep all night thinking of the new stranger. The little redhead was actually much older than she appeared to be at first sight, Silver guessed she was fifteen. The girl must not have eaten for a few weeks and had very little sleep, judging by her thin, tired features. Finally, her worries got the best of her and she got off her bed, giving up the idea of sleep. In the bathroom she quietly refreshed herself, putting on a man's white shirt buttoned up two thirds of the way with vertical blue stripes and a white undershirt peeking out from underneath. She pulled her curly brown hair into a tall ponytail and secured a white bandanna about her neck, something that Jack did not appreciate much, since _he_ was the only cowboy amongst the newsies. She snuck through the bedroom, grabbing her well-worn, mid-calf boots by her bed. She knew that it would be long before anyone would wake up, and she did her best not to force sleep away from any of them. She put her boots on downstairs and with candle in hand shuffled into the small room under the stairs waking the short girl. Silver bent over her, trying to hide the worry on her face with a warm smile.

"Good mornin' I'se hopin' ta see yas awake. Me name's Silvah Fists" she sat down on the chair by the bed introducing herself. "De boys gave me de name, coz a' de rings I'se always wearin', I'se ain't dang'ous though…I'se noised yas all night…Yas feelin' any beddah dan yest'day?" Silver helped the girl sit up and handed her a glass of water she had brought in earlier.

After drinking the entire glass in one gulp the small girl looked at the young woman beside her gratefully.

"Ah'm Cara Kathryn McCaleigh" she said quietly "Ah jist came frem Ireland on a boat and two men beat me, like me father did back home, they took me money too, and mama's locket." 

Cara briefly told the girl her story. When she finished, tears rolled down her cheeks, making Silver's heart twist from pity. 

"Cara, I'se nevah been able ta open up t'anyone like yas jist did 'afoah, trust me I'se not tellin' anyone 'f yas don't want me to. Bout dem robbahs, wheahevah dey's hidin' we'se find 'em and get yer locket back. We'se da newsies a' Man'attan, woik fah da "New Yawk Woild", jist so yas know, once yas get beddah, yas should be one too, easiest way ta make money in dis city"

Inside, Silver fumed from anger, she was quite sure she knew who had hurt Cara. _Delanceys yas getting' a taste a' me silvah da moment I'se seein' yas. _

Silver stayed with Cara all that day, letting her rest and telling her about her few experiences as a newsie while they ate. 

* * *

"Hey, Silvah" greeted the girl Jack as he walked up to her sitting on the stairs of the Lodging House. 

Cara sat near her and was immediately introduced to the "fearless leadah a' da Man'attan newsies". Jack was followed by many other boys and a couple of girls that were visiting that night. An Italian boy named Racetrack dragged Cara inside to properly introduce her to them all and to his cards, leaving Silver outside on the stairs. 

Night fell quickly over New York and around Silver, still out on the stairs. It had quickly become her routine to stay out until everybody came back to the Lodging House by curfew, she felt responsible for them for reasons unknown. A rush of footsteps broke the quiet of the street, as a small slightly chubby boy with wildly curly hair, Snipeshooter, ran for his life to the Lodging House. He was closely followed by two young men in bowler hats, who were yelling insults at him. Silver stood up letting the cigar-thief hide behind her. Over her shoulder she told him to go inside, making her way towards his attackers. The two circled her, but failed to intimidate her as she bravely stood her ground. She did not notice several of her friends peering out of the windows and stepping out the doorway of the Lodging House.

"So yas pickin' on small kids now, Delanceys?" she glared at them "Why doncha pick on someone ya own size?" she growled, clenching her fists adorned with eight freshly polished silver rings. 


	3. Part II

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Part II

"OWW, not so haid!" Silver snapped at Jack who clapped her on her back laughing uncontrollably. He doubled over, trying to catch his breath and with a small shove from Silver, fell on the floor with a loud thud, where he continued laughing.

"Yas should leave da heroics to da ones wid experience, 'specially when it comes ta fightin' da Delancey bruddas" he explained to her once he had caught his breath.

"Well, 'f I'se nevah fightin' den I'se navah getting da same experience, Cowboy" she retorted bandaging her fist, where her own rings had cut her. "Yas gotta admit dat me rings almost matched Morris's brass knuckles" she attempted hopefully.

"Shoa dey did, kid" a muscular boy with dark curly hair and thought-filled brown eyes comforted her from the bunk nearby. "Ya shouda seen Oscah's face, goigeous job I'se must 'dmit."

"Yea, thanks Mush, yas gotta 'dmit dat dey's done a bettah job on _mah_ face though." She sighed touching a painful bruise on her jaw. She had a black eye and a busted lip to compliment her cut-up hands as well.

"Remind me ta give yah a few pointahs when dem hands a' yas get bettah" a boy with an eye patch over his left eye, named Kid Blink playfully punched her arm.

Silver finished wrapping her hands and looked about to find Cara caught in a poker game with Racetrack, and a few other boys. Over the game, they were telling the new girl about the Newsies' strike that had happened less than a month ago. Silver had read about it in "The Sun" and heard the entire story (with a few exaggerations) when she first arrived at the Lodging House and this time it sounded even more glorified than then. She smiled to herself as the conversation turned into an incoherent buzz around her; she only paid attention to one thing. Remy Senlui, a muscular boy of sixteen sat not too far away listening to the new version of the story. He laughed at Racetrack's remarks, his somewhat long chestnut hair falling into his green-brown eyes. Watching him brought a faint smile to Silver's lips as she drew back into her won thoughts, keeping him in her field of view.

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''Ey whacha t'ink ya doin'?!' shouted a chestnut-haired, French-sounding boy racing down the street after a girl that had just managed to pick his pocket while he was busy selling a newspaper.

She was a good runner, able to easily jump over a few barrels of fruit. He was no worse, following closely behind through a few alleys and up a fire escape to a dead end on a rooftop. She frantically scanned her surroundings standing on the edge of the roof did not see her pursuer as he neared her. He roughly grabbed her by the wrist of the hand that was holding his hard-earned money as soon as she was within reach. She wheeled around angrily tightening her free fist, ready to hit. The setting sun reflected off the rings that were on her fingers.

'Mon Dieu! Why is ya stealin' when ye're so rich?' he growled at her growing angrier. He tightly squeezed her wrist, the pain making her think better than to fight him.

'I'se not sellin' dese even if it meant savin me life' the girl bravely responded, yet did not dare look him in the eyes. He squeezed her wrist more forcing the coins to drop from her hand into his open palm. 

'Well, petite, ya gonna_ 'ave ta sell dem, coz stealin aint yer t'ing. What were ya gon' use da money fo' anyway?' he asked tilting her head up with the corner of the last newspapers he still carried._

'I'se needs ta find meself a place ta stay ta-night…' she was a little scared of the boy, but it was that he had sparked her interest, that made her tell the truth. 

He did not say anything, just pulled her after him by her wrist that he was still holding. It grew dark quickly as they descended down the fire escape. She followed him quietly, feeling he was still irritated, although he had gotten his money back. They walked down the street, turning a few corners and coming to a place that the girl had not been to before. They walked toward a two-storey building, with a sign "Newsboys Lodging House" over the door. Standing in the shadow of a building unnoticed, she saw several boys walk inside.

'Mah name's Cajun, by de way' he faced her, while they were still across the road from the place they were heading to. 'Ya gon' stay here t'night. T'morrah ya c'n start sellin' papes wid me. I shouldn't be so nice to ya after ya tried stealin' frem me, but ya looks like ya could use some friends, and…we umm…we wouldn't mind anothah fille at da Lodgin' House eithah.' he spat into his palm and stretched his hand out. 

'I'se Alisha Sheiway, I'se not mind stayin' anywheah, 's long as da people's good and da roof aint leaky.' she spit in her own palm and shook his hand, having witnessed such a thing done by many newsies out on the streets before. 

'Da roof ain't usually_ leakin', only when 's rainin' too hard, and is no good dat ya ain't got no nickname' he looked down at their hands that were still locked and grinned 'but dat can always change. Pleased ta meet ya Silver Fists'._

"Hey we'se been tryin' ta get through ta yas fah da past five minutes. What's wrong wid yas kid?" Cajun stuck his face a hair's width away from hers, snapping her out of her daydream and startling her. Grinning at their closeness, she reassured him everything was fine and went to the girl's bunkroom where she had heard excited squeals ring a few seconds ago from one of the other girls.

* * *

Several days passed as Silver took Cara around Manhattan, teaching her to sell newspapers and introducing her to the city. Cara was a natural, able to lie at the snap of a finger. It was a skill she acquired as soon as she learned to speak, and told Silver about it. For a child who had come into a new country, Cara was very brave. The two girls became quick friends and Cara found good friends amongst the newsgirls of the same lodging house. Cara seemed quite uneasy about everything at first, but Silver showed her that it was not all that bad, as long as she did not go around the city alone and had some friends she trusted. Silver earned Cara's trust with her fists, standing up for her, and learning how to fight the hard way. By the end of that week the cuts on her hands got much worse, but the girl did not give that much notice, at least now she had a good friend and had also gotten rid of her gloves. 

__

'Here, petite, ya don't want anyone stealin' dem mem'ries frem ya' Cajun tossed her a pair of gloves soon after they came up to the bunkroom of the Lodging House and she was introduced to the majority of the boys staying there. The gloves were old, made of thick, tightly knitted black thread and the tips of the fingers were cut off and tattered.

Cara grew stronger as her stomach was re-filled with sausages and fruits and anything else she could afford after a day of hawking the headlines. The boys at the Lodging House treated her well, much like a little sister, and so did the girls. A peppy brunette named Toity, who boasted a crush on Blink, became her second best friend. Cara had meant to ask Silver why she got into that fight a week ago and who the Delancey brothers were, but was always distracted by one of the newsies or a good customer. 

One night Jack brought company into the crowded bunkroom. David and Les, two brothers who sold with him, introduced their sister, and Jack's girlfriend, Sarah to the two new girls. David, a seventeen-year old school boy and the 'Walking Mouth' of the newsies' strike, was engulfed in a tight hug from a muscular redhead, Squibble, that grinned happily at him not about to let go. Sarah, Silver and Cara went off into a corner joining a dozen other girls in a conversation, but not before a fourth guest was introduced to Cara. A boy shorter than Jack came into the room and was loudly greeted by all. He wore a smirk on his face that spoke of authority and dignity. His blue eyes peering from under his gray cap, in his hand a gold-topped cane. He did not recognize the small freckle-faced Cara standing by Silver's side, gawking up at him, but she certainly recognized him. Silver dragged her away from Spot, to keep her from any trouble, and the Brooklynite followed Jack for an urgent conversation up on the roof. 

* * *

"Ah know 'im frem somewhere" mused Cara looking in the direction the boys had gone.

"Ya's prolly been dreamin' an' saw 'im in yer sleep, He's one face dat could appeah in any nightmeah." chuckled Blaze, a blue-eyed, blonde-haired seventeen-year-old with European blood in her veins.

"No, Ah'm sure Ah've seen 'im before" retorted the little girl stubbornly.

"Even if yas 'ave yas shouldn't be makin' a big deal a' it. His mightiness leadah a' Brooklyn won't caeh 'bout yet anuddah stray goil" answered Hades, her black eyes peering at her with a serious expression from beneath her half-open dark eyelids.

"But…" started Cara, but stopped at a meaningful look from Silver.

* * *

"She knows yas." stated Jack as-a-matter-of-factly when the two had gotten up on the roof. 

"So?" came Spot's careless response.

"So…Yas still aint gonna tell 'er dat 't was yas dat saved 'er life? Yas c'n be a hearah ta 'er" pressed Jack distractedly pulling on his black cowboy hat.

"An' den I'se 'ave a kid followin' me around everywheah" Spot snorted back "I'se radder jis stay da leadah a' Brooklyn, 's enough woik fah me."

The two boys talked, sitting on the edge of the roof. They did not hear the door open behind them and a short girl walk out onto the roof.

"Spot?" came an inquiring whisper as Cara walked up closer to the two friends.

Hearing his name, Spot turned around. Seeing the little redhead standing above him, he frowned, she _did_ know him.

"Ah jist wanted ta thank ye fer savin me life. If 't weren't fer ye-" Spot's razor-sharp tone cut her off.

"Jis stop, I'se glad yas fine, now fahget 'bout it, 't was Silvah dat saved yas, I'se jis dragged yas in heah." he gave her an icy glare

"But…" like a few minutes ago downstairs, she stopped at the notice of another glare.

"Jis fahgettit kid" Spot turned his back on her, to stare at the sky.

"Ah guess, Silver was roight, Ah'm jist another stray goil to ye and me thanks means nothin'", her temper flared up, but she did not wish to waste it on him or really show it for that matter, since she was always told to bravely take any insults going her way. She stormed away, back into the bunkroom, where Silver gave her an understanding hug.

"He don't care fah nuttin but hisself and his reputation, he don't desoive ya ta cry ovah 'im" Silver patted her shoulder when Cara had settled down by her and the others again. "'Nless yas like 'im." she finished off teasingly and received a pillow in the face. 

The redhead got up and stormed away from her friend, past all the bunks and out the door.

"Gots a bit of a tempah don't she?" asked Racetrack looking up from his card game "'T could be her new nickname, whacha say Silvah?" he did not get a response as the tall girl went after Cara, pushing past Jack and Spot who had decided to join the group after their talk. 

"Yeah, why not…" she mumbled shooting a venomous look at Spot over her shoulder before running down the stairs.


	4. Part III

****

Part III

Cara had run out of the Lodging house and blindly raced down the street.

__

Lord, Ah asked ye ta give me a break, but ye didn't lissen…then Ah asked ya ta kill me and take me to mama, but ye still_ didn't lissen. What do ye want me ta do? 'S there a reason fer me ta be here that I jist haven't figured out yet? If ye didn't keep torturin' me, then maybe Ah _would_ figure it out. Ah gotta be grateful to ye fer sendin' Silver me way, lettin' me have a friend fer a change. Ah shouldn'ta run out like that…Ah-_

Deep in her thoughts and her temper bubbling, Cara ran into someone in her path. She picked herself up, ready to keep running down the street that she had never been on before when a pair of rough hands grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted her up into the air. She was afraid her father had found her, the man's grasp was quite similar to the one she was used to, and there even was a nauseating smell of alcohol about him. 

"Whacha doin' heah kid, ain't it long past yas bedtime?" he shook her, his face shadowed by the rim of his hat. "'Ey Morris, Oscah, ain't dis da kid dat sells wid Alisha" he adressed two dark figures that separated from the shadow of a nearby alley.

"Gimme back me locket!" Cara screamed recognizing the two bowler hats. 

She squirmed out of the strong arms and charged at the figure nearest to her. Normally she would have stayed limp in her attacker's grip and taken her beating, like she did around her father. This time was different, she was too angry and hurt to do what she knew was best for her before and went at the man with her small fists. She managed to tackle him to the ground swinging her fists and biting any flesh that came near her. She was pulled off him quite quickly and harshly shoved away.

"Yas mean dis locket?" evilly grinned the other man in a pink undershirt loosely covered by a dark one swinging the delicate chain a few meters away from her face. 

She jumped seeing her mother's locket and charged at the man, but was stopped short by a rough hand that had held her before.

"Hey Oscah, didn't yer muddah evah tell ya not ta pick fights wid liddle kids…'n case dey's got big kids backin' 'em up" called a voice from a shadow near him. With a silver flash, a fist hit Oscar Delancey square in the jaw making him reel backwards from surprise. 

"Silver, ye shouldn'ta come! They'll hurt ye!" screamed Cara, who had now been discarded into the shadow of a building.

"An' I'se radder see me friend get hoit?" Silver grunted back while kneeing Oscar in the stomach. "Ya stupid ape" she addressed Morris, who tried jumping on her back, but instead she crouched down, letting him sail over her and onto the ground. Oscar was coming around, so she kneed him in the stomach again and shoved him towards his brother. She looked at them not noticing that her fist was bleeding again, her old cuts freshly re-opened.

"Yas ain't gonna git away frem dis so easy goil! Next time we'se makin' ya pay…er maybe Hands will do our job fah us now" Morris spoke to someone behind Silver as he pulled himself from underneath his brother. The girl had no time to turn around as a pair of large, coarse hands grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her at a wall. 

"Silver! Hold on, Ah'll be back" screamed Cara over her shoulder racing away. She was too far for Hands to grab, or for either of the Delancey brothers to chase in their condition.

"Jis fah dat, I'se makin ya pay a lil' extrah…_Alisha_" Hands walked towards the winded brunette. Hearing her real name she stared up at the large boy heading at her, at first with surprise, and then with horror as recognition dawned upon her. She thought she had finally lost him, but as always he was back.

"Joe, whatcha doin' heah, I'se thought yas was in a bettah place by now" she smirked nervously.

He was her old childhood friend and neighbor whose father was constantly in prison and mother terribly ill. She was Dr. Sherway's first patient when he and his daughter opened their small clinic. Unfortunately, Joe's mother was far too ill when she started receiving help and died a year after, leaving the sixteen-year-old Joe out on the street. The boy blamed nobody but Dr. Sherway and his daughter for his misfortune and tried making life hard for the two, constantly pestering his patients and following the girl with intentions worse than unacceptable. Two months ago was the first anniversary of his mother's death. That was the night Dr. Sherway disappeared and fire was set to their apartment, in attempt to get rid of his daughter.

"Yas wipe dat grin offa yer face, 'foah I'se cut it off" he snarled pulling out a small pocket knife. He grabbed her by the front of her shirt and pressed her against the wall. "Dis is fah me muddah" he whispered menacingly as the blade slowly made its way down the edge of her cheekbone. 

He did not cut deep, just far enough to make a mark. Silver could see madness in his eyes, but could do nothing as he dragged her into an alley a few steps away and pinned her to the cold wall with his large hands. She shut her eyes in disgust her mind howling from rage. He slapped her several times pulling her away from the wall and throwing her back at it.

Oddly, he did not grab her again. She slid against the wall down to the ground trembling and clutching her cut cheek, not paying attention to the salty tears streaming down into her wound. She looked away from Joe's body that was a few feet away with several of her newsie friends pummeling at it with their fists. She felt a pair of strong arms about her shoulders and heard Cajun's voice soothing her. She leaned onto him, letting him hold her tightly, crying into his shirt until she could only sit there and let her body be rocked by tearless sobs.


	5. Part IV

****

Part IV

Silver had never been so distant from the newsies before. She left Cara to sell with Toity and Cajun, leaving her best friends and former partners along with everyone else. She kept her distance from her friends; she ended up sleeping on the streets. After her run-in with Joe she could not keep lying to herself that she would still find her father and that anyone near her was safe. 

__

Theah's nuttin' fah me ta do, Joe don't know when ta stop, 'e'll come back fah me…t'inks I'se helped kill 'is muddah. I'se used ta be 'is best friend an' now 'e wants me dead. Das what I'se get fah trustin' someone. I'se gotta keep away frem da newsies, da last thing I'se need 's ta see dem get hoit coz a' me too…

It was sunset when her aching feet unconsciously brought her back to the Lodging House one evening. Silver felt like she was alone in the world, she could not face the people she had so much faith in before and was now somewhat afraid of, what if they turned against her like Joe did? She ran over the healing cut on her cheek with the tips of her fingers thinking back to when she had just joined the newsies, she was so happy then, even though her father had just been killed. She took the fire escape stairs up to the roof of her home, not ready to directly face her friends, whom she had been avoiding for about a week. Silver was too tired to sit, or to find a comfortable spot, she just collapsed onto the roof as soon as her feet stepped over its edge. She lay awake, curled up on her side staring blankly into the sky. She could not figure out how quickly her strength and pride left her after that night fighting Joe and the Delanceys, she could not manage to keep her head up high anymore or defend herself when a passer-by cussed at her for one reason, or another. Her head throbbed of the overflow of thoughts running through her mind.

* * *

__

Lord, why's that ye always hurt if not me, then someone close ta me? Why did Ah 'ave to run out like that, when she asked 'f Ah liked Spot…'f Ah jis hadn't been so stupid Silver would be here now, playin' cards, cheerful as b'fore. Ah can't believe those pigs dared ta even touch 'er. 

Cara looked over at Cajun, sitting on his bunk playing with the bandanna that Silver left on his bed the night she disappeared. Both of them had gotten attached to Silver very quickly and now would not speak to anyone if it was not necessary, they were far too upset and confused. The tall brunette had always been one of the cheeriest of the entire group, bringing everyone's spirits up whenever something went wrong…and now she was gone, wandering the streets of New York avoiding everyone that knew her. Although most of the newsies had been quieter since the day she left, some still did not give up their evening poker games, which resulted in loud cheers, conversation and laughter. Soon Silver Fists would become a memory, just another kid that had passed through the Lodging House and the lives of the newsies, such things happened often in New York. Cara sat on her bunk looking at the boy when a shadow from the fire escape caught her eye. Over the noise of the card game, she did not hear any sound of footsteps outside, but she was sure that there was something out there. The girl ran over to the window and peered out, catching a glimpse of a mid-calf boot going over the edge of the roof. 

"What is 't, Tempah?" asked Jack from atop his bunk, he had been watching her all night, while pretending to be asleep.

"Ah ain't too shoah" she responded with a trace of the newsie accent mixed in with her own Irish one.

She slowly walked over to Cajun with a confused look on her face and sat down on the edge of his bunk.

"D'ye think Silver's all right?" she said pretending to be casual. Not receiving a response she looked up at him, who looked even more upset. "Ah mean, she's been wanderin' da streets fer long an' Ah don't think 's healthy fer 'er ta be sleepin' up on de roof…"she stared at him, knowing that the moment he heard those words he would come back to life. 

He looked back at her dumbstruck, waiting for her to say more. Cara just nodded toward the stairs to the roof and slid off his bunk, giving him room to get out. Surprising everybody in the room, Cajun jumped out of his bed and raced up the stairs to the roof, as if a whole swarm of bees was after him.

"Silver's back…" she explained to her confused friends "…let 'im greet 'er hisself" she stopped them. She leaned back against Jack's bunk speaking over her shoulder, as the card game resumed, with a rather awkward atmosphere. "Ah hope he finally tells 'er, Cowboy, 'coz Ah don't think Ah can stand hearin' 'im talk bout 'er all da time no moah." He ruffled her hair in response, much like a brother would to a kid sister. 

"Yas done well keepin' 'im safe fah her" he grinned siting up, impatient for his two friends to return.

* * *

He slowed down his pace as he stepped out on the roof. His heart beat loudly, anxious to see Silver again. Cara had been supporting him the entire time she was gone, telling him he'd see her again. 

__

Cara's great, de petite knows Silver well. She's a great sister…if it weren't fo' her, I'd never get da courage ta tell Silver how much I care…jist 'ope it really is_ her… _

His thoughts were interrupted by a quiet sigh. It came from something…or someone just a few steps behind the stair exit he came out of. Cajun raced around it to almost trip over Silver's curled up body. He dropped to his knees beside her, tenderly scooping her up in his arms.

"Ya've been worryin' me…err…us so bad chere, where 've ya been?" he whispered

"I'se sorry, I'se dinna wancha ta get hoit…alla yas" she strained to answer, then her thoughts flooded out uncontrollably "Joe's done a lotta bad t'ings b'fore, 'n I'se not wanted 'im ta do moah." she sighed as he put his fingers to her scar.

"'E's done much more den he should 'ave da moment he touched ya, belle. Besides we're newsies, we stick together, and we also protect each other, we can take 'im on" he grinned slightly pulling her up to sit on his lap. 

He wrapped the arm he was supporting her up with, fully around her shoulders, and gently cupped her cheek with the other. He wanted to hold her like that forever, showering her with kisses and loving words. He moved his face closer to hers, his heart filling with anticipation.

"Stop. Yas don't undahstand" she whispered, stopping him with her fingertips on his lips. Silver gathered her remaining strength and got up from his warm embrace. She mentally kicked herself for doing so, for she really cared about Cajun, but she knew she had to keep him at bay because she cared about him. "Joe t'inks I'se killed 'is muddah, so 'e killed me faddah fah it, and now 'e's come aftah me. 'E's crazy, 'e's had a rough life, woise dan many a da newsies downstaihs, much woise dan me fah shoa. 'Is muddah was da only good thing ta happen ta him and he'll do anythin' ta get 'is revenge fah 'er death. Das why 'e attacked me, 'e wants ta kill me, Cajun, an' 'e'll kill anyone dat'll stand in 'is way…an' I'se don't want 'im even comin' close ta YOU of all people!" She turned away from him afraid he would see the tears welling up in her eyes. 

"Nobody's getting' hoit" she heard his voice near. She could not let him too close. No matter what, anyone close to her had always gotten hurt, it was just the way things worked. The creak of the stairwell door behind her informed of someone else joining them. 

"Silver, come back…please" pleaded a small, yet stern voice far away from her. 

It broke her heart to hear Cara sad, and that she was the cause of it. Cajun shifted his weight behind her as Cara quickly made it over to his side.

"I'se can't, an' doncha try ta make me" she turned her head around to catch a glimpse of the two people dear to her. 

Her eyes were misty from the tears streaming out, but she could still see the hurt clearly splashed all over her friends' faces. She looked at Cara as a sister at a sister and then at Cajun. To her, he was the most handsome boy she had ever met, there was something about him that melted her heart. That is why she had to leave, to keep them, and everyone else, safe. Without a single word, or a look back, Silver jumped over the edge of the roof, onto the fire escape. She raced down the stairs, deaf to the voices calling after her in despair. Someone in the bunkroom had heard the commotion and tried grabbing her, but she dodged him, jumping over the railing and landing in a pile of trash on the ground. She heard several sets of footsteps race down the stairs after her, but she was faster. She saw nothing as tears sprayed out of her eyes while she ran. She was one of the fastest runners in Manhattan with a lot of stamina and so was able to outrun her pursuers. She ran down the dark streets of New York before deciding the only safe place for her was in Brooklyn. 

Although she teased him a lot, Spot Conlon, the leader of the Brooklyn newsies treated the girl with respect, unlike many others. She could not understand why, but decided to stop at the fact that he would really have no reason to be mean to her. With New York's toughest newsie nearby, she would not have to worry about facing Joe alone, and with those thoughts Silver ran on. 

When she had finally crossed Brooklyn Bridge the night was beginning to lighten. Her shirts were drenched in sweat and her hair stuck in clumps to the back of her neck. Her head hurt from all the crying and could not come up with anything better than a cooling swim in the river. She was a good swimmer, her father had taught her long ago. She slowed down on the wooden platform only to pull off her boots and socks and leave them by a rope ladder that hung down into the water. Normally, no newsie in their right mind would go into that blackness when the sky was still even partially dark, but as night dissolved quickly into the first rays of morning, Silver gracefully dove in without a single back thought.

The cold water knocked out Silver's breath as she went underwater, but the chill only motivated her to swim faster. She swam underwater a few feet and re-surfaced catching a big gulp of air and continuing in a front crawl. The water soothed her as her angry pummeling slowed down into long, graceful strokes. While taking a breath, she noticed the Sun's first rays lighting up the surface of the water and paused, quietly bobbing in one spot.

"Hey, kid! Gimme one reason why I'se shouldn't soak yas!" came an angry voice from the platform behind her. 

She recognized the icy tone and the person without even looking and wordlessly swam back to greet him. Climbing up the rope ladder, she saw a boy of average height with a cane towering over her.

"Coz I'se already soaked ta me bones, mistah-" she did not finish her response as the cane struck her jaw painfully grazing her bottom lip. 

Spot had not recognized her in the dusk and had swung his cane, ready to fend off any unwanted company. He recognized her voice almost as soon as she spoke, but it was too late. Stunned, Silver released her grip on the ladder and fell back into the water. She kicked herself back up to the surface coughing and cursing, much to the Brooklyn leader's surprise.

"Ya bum! I'se come heah ta git away from a damn soakin' an' dat's how yas welcome me?!" she fumed as he hastily pulled her up onto the platform.

"I'se not rec'nized yas…swimmin' an' all" he mumbled as she pulled her boots back on. "Yas should prolly change foah yas catch sumtin', den yas can tell me why yas heah" he said rather apologetically, looking away from her bleeding lip.

****


	6. Part V

****

Part V

Silver had been in Brooklyn for a few hours. Spot had stayed with her, feeling somewhat responsible for her, since she came to him for help. For once completely opening up to someone, she told him her entire story. To Spot she was just a very close friend, but one he would sacrifice his life for, hearing her out, he swore to kill Joe if he dared to even come close to her. He cared a lot for the girl and their friendship was close, but maybe he wanted more than a simple friendship.

"I'se jist know dat da moment I'se let 'im neah me, 'e'se as good as dead. I'se like 'im a lot, too much ta see 'im hoit coz a me." she said quietly, finally telling Spot of her feelings for Cajun.

She sat on the bottom of Spot's bunk, unable to see Spot frown at her words. He was so good to her, letting her stay in his room, away from the prying eyes of the main bunkroom, listening to her sad story and comforting her as much as he could. And she still did not realize his true feelings for her. 

"I can't let nobody close ta me" she whispered to herself, but Spot heard and winced at that truth.

Before either one could say anything, the heavy silence of Spot's private room was broken by a knock on the door. Slightly irritated, but more relieved, Spot asked who it was without getting off his bed and in response Jack sternly answered that they needed to talk. Hearing Jack's voice, Silver Fists jumped up, as if stung, with a horrified look on her face, she did not want to be taken back to the Manhattan, not while Joe was still around. Without a word, Spot went over to the door and swung it open with a stern expression on his face. Just before Jack could enter the room, Silver pushed past him angrily, too fast for him to grab her arm. Jack spun around to try and grab her again; after all, the reason he came was to get her back. The girl stalked down the iron set of stairs into the main and only room of the Brooklyn Lodging House, besides Spot's. Her cap was pulled down low, blocking her view, and thus, she did not see the newsies before her, whom she ran into a few steps later. One of them grabbed her by the shoulders, his iron grip not allowing her to move an inch. The strength told her full well who it was, but she was too ashamed of the way she had run away the night before, to look at him. A quiet command forced her to face the stern gaze of the captivating green-brown. He was angered to see the cut on her lip, and even more feeling how distant she was. She tore away from his stare, mixed emotions overwhelming her. She wanted to run away, but then she also wanted to stay and take her punishment for torturing him with worry during the past week. Yet when his grip eased she simply stood there confused, her eyes brimming with tears. She finally noticed two other Manhattan newsies standing nearby, Racetrack protectively holding Cara by the shoulders. She could not bear to look at them and covering her face, briskly walked out of the Lodging house, with Cajun following close behind. 

"Tempah has sumtin' ta tell yas" stated Jack, his voice unusually serious. 

He and Spot slowly walked down the stairs after witnessing the scene with Silver Fists and Cajun Senlui. Spot was inwardly glad that none of his newsies saw it, the Brooklynites were out selling their newspapers. 

The two boys walked up to the pair standing at the stairs and at that Race gave Cara a gentle shove towards Spot. The proud leader eyed her over, finally getting a good look at her He leaned down so his face was on the same level as hers, encouraging her to speak.

"Well…uhh…foist a awl, t'anks fer keepin' Silver safe" she squeezed out, backing away a little, still somewhat angry at the boy in front of her.

"What comes second?" Spot cut to the chase.

"Joe's been followin' 'er" she said flatly " 'E's been around our Lodgin' 'ouse a lot an' I'se seen someone very much like 'im on da ways heah, I'se shoah 'e's in Brooklyn." she finished, her Irish accent almost entirely replaced by the New Yorker one.

"T'anks kid" Spot mumbled with an odd feeling in his stomach. He straitened up and turned to Jack, "We'se needs ta find 'er…fast"

* * *

Cajun caught up to Silver as she stopped to take her boots off, ready for a swim. He yanked her up to her feet and pulled her behind him into an alley between large crates. He pushed her against the wall of one of them, blocking any way out by placing his hands on the wall by both of her shoulders. 

"What wrong wid you fille? Ya know I not gon' let ya get hurt, Silver, not as long 's I still breathin'!" he exclaimed, making Silver wince, unused to him raising his voice at her. Seeing her expression, his voice softened to almost a whisper. "You may play as me sister but, you gotta know I love you…petite, please give de games up"

Silver looked away, biting her lower lip to stop her tears. He had said he loved her, something she'd wanted to hear for the longest time, but knew she couldn't let him mean it.

"I'se not tryin' ta make it haid, 's just 'appenin' dat way. I'se don't want nobody ta hoit ya, an' 'f yas wid me, dat's shoah to 'appen, I'se told ya dis b'fore." she finally managed to look at him, her blue-gray eyes turning a shade of green as the sun lit them up. He was stunned by those eyes, they were like an open window into her heart, so full of sorrow, yet there a touch of love glistened in them as she pressed herself to him in a tight embrace.

'Nobody's getting' hurt, petite. We're gon' stick togethe' and no cochon like Joe will even 'ave time ta look at ya 'foah we soak 'im" he whispered into her thick brown curls that cascaded down since her cap was knocked off in the embrace. 

Cajun wrapped his arms about her; he had her all to himself. He shut his eyes feeling the warmth of her body, working up the courage for something more. He gently pulled away, her arms still around his neck, his arm slipping to her waist, while he reached for her face with the other. First he brushed over the scar on her cheek, then more tenderly, the cut on her lip. He leaned closer toward her, his fingers slipping under her chin, tilting her face to his and closing the gap between their lips.


	7. Part VI

****

Part VI

"Ain't dat jist da sweetest t'ing" mockingly cooed a voice, interrupting Silver and Cajun.

__

NO! Joe, yas can't be heah, not NOW! I'se known, da moment I'se lettin' Remy neah me, 'e's getting hoit…Gawd, I'se love 'im too much… "Joe, dis fight's between you an' me" she glared, trying to look intimidating.

She pulled away from Cajun and walked into the middle of the alley, her arms wide open in challenge. The large boy rushed at her, but ended up tackling Cajun, who had pushed Silver away in the last moment. Leaving him winded on the ground, Joe grabbed the girl and dealt out several heavy punches to her stomach. In return, she clawed at his face, kicking and thrashing, ignoring the pain. She managed to punch him in the nose making him drop her. By then, Cajun had gotten up and had jumped on Joe's back, but was loudly slammed against the crates several times and then pulled off and thrown deep into the alley. Joe turned his heavy frame around to see Silver crawling to the mouth of the alley and calling for help. In seconds, he was on top of her, a knife cruelly flashing in his hand. He swung his arm, ready to strike, when a small body landed on top of her, taking the knife in her back. Three boys dragged off the attacker and Silver managed to pull herself up with the small body on her lap.

"T'anks fah bein' me fam'ly Alisha" sounded a groggy voice from somewhere within a tangle of dark-red hair. "Me mama wants me wid 'er now" smiled the girl weakly as Silver brushed the hair away from her friend's face.

"T'ank _you_ Carah, yas done so much fah me" she choked back tears.

Silver Fists wrapped her arms about Cara's small body, squeezing her tightly, Cara lightly hugged back, but her grip eased very quickly. When Silver let go, the girl lay limp in her arms with her eyes closed and a smile playing on her face.

__

'Mama!' a fifteen-year-old girl raced down a dirt road, the wind playing in her dark-red hair. She ran open-armed towards a tall, thin brunette standing on a porch of a small house. The girl reached her and was caught in a tight embrace, feverishly showered with kisses. 

'Ah'm 'ome, mama' the girl smiled, hugging her mother tightly.

A man of thirty walked past the porch, taking his hat off respectfully and smiling radiantly beneath his moustache.

'Thank you for taking care of my Alisha' he said taking hold of her hand and politely giving it a kiss.

* * *

"NO!" cried a skinny brunette as she collapsed into the arms of a nearby girl in tears. She sobbed into Hades' shoulder as the latter stared at the cause of their upset with tears flooding down her own dark cheeks.

"Toity…" started Silver, but choked on her own grief as she stared down at the body of their best friend in her arms. She had carried Cara all the way from Brooklyn in grave silence, the boys following her at a distance. 

"S'iveh, wha's wrong wif Cara?" inquired a little four-year old from her bunk. She waited for a response tugging on her dirty-blonde hair with her small grimy fingers, but never got it. 

Silver shut her eyes to block out Posey's confused stare. She could not believe she was stupid enough to bring Cara into their bunkroom, to let little kids see her… She mumbled an inaudible excuse and left the room, taking Cara under the stairs, to rest like the first time she had seen her. Unfortunately, this time was different; she could do nothing to save the girl's life. She did not cry anymore, for anger boiled her blood, blocking out any other emotions. Joe had been arrested and sent to the House of Refuge again, but he was still alive…and Cara was not. Cara sacrificed herself not even knowing for what and why. 

__

'F only da boys had not come dat night, den Joe coulda had 'is revenge and nobody woulda gotten hoit but me. Dat wouldn'ta been a big loss an' it woulda been da only one. Joe's gonna run away from da slam, I'se know it, an' 'e ain't gonna stop a'foah 'e gets rid a me, who knows how many oddahs I'se gonna bury 'f deys gonna keep defendin' me like dis.

* * *

The funeral was simple, but even that took most of the money the Manhattan newsies had. The sun shone brightly over the bared heads of the grieving kids listening to the words of an old priest. Most left soon after he was finished, to go and earn money for dinner, only four remained. 

Silver dropped to her knees blind to everything but the small mound of fresh earth and a wood board reading 'Cara Kathryn McCaleigh, Manhattan's little sister' in freshly painted white letters in front of her. Her face drenched of any expression was set into a tired frown. She had truly loved the little girl as a sister and had always thought she would be nearby forever. Dreamily she scattered a bundle of daises, which had cost her her last pennies, over the small grave. She closed her eyes whispering a quick farewell. Kid Blink stood by Silver, his hand gently squeezing her shoulder. His other hand was around Toity, who had just finally accepted Cara's death, seeing her coffin buried six feet under ground. Cajun stood on the other side of Silver and with his help she stood up and was gently pulled away. They had been standing at the little grave alone for quite some time.

The two girls were in no shape for selling, although their pockets were quite empty. The boys stayed with them feeling quite distracted from selling themselves, and wanting to make sure they were alright. They wandered down the streets, their arms comfortingly around each other, at times attracting the attention of passers-by. People wondered at their grief as they watched two couples of street urchins escorting two young girls. One of the boys seemed to be wearing his best, yet even that was patched up in some places, and stained in others, his wispy blonde hair stuck out from under his brown cabby hat and hung over a large eye-patch covering his left eye. The other was dressed almost entirely in black, his long chestnut hair held back by a band of black cloth on his forehead, it was as if the small procession had been at a funeral. Both of the girls were of average height, but of the same height to each other. One had her shoulder-length brown hair tied back with a ribbon, a light-colored shirt hung on her shoulders betraying her skinniness and it was neatly tucked into the belt of a long, worn, brown skirt. The other's long brown curls fell onto her shoulders; her large white shirt tucked into a black skirt, which dragged on the cobblestones. The skirt had been a very late birthday present made by Cara from an old spring coat she had found in the small room under the lodging house stairs. The four did not speak much, brooding in their own thoughts. They passed their newsie friends several times, who half-heartedly shouted the day's headlines, never exchanging more than two words with them. 

" 'S awl me fault…" firmly stated Silver when the three found a seat on a bench in Central Park. "…I'se shouldn'ta run away in da foist place, den yas wouldn'ta had ta come get me an' bring Cara wid you an'…an' even if Joe woulda found me, she wouldn'ta gotten hoit." she spoke to Blink as Toity walked off to a faraway fruit vendor to get them some food with the money the boy had graciously offered. Cajun went with Toity in case she needed more money or the hands of a skilled thief. "She was me responsibility…an' I'se couldn't protect 'er"

"Look, I'se sawry ta be da one ta tell ya dis, but da goil wanted ta die evah since Spot brought 'er in from da street. She only lived fah da moment when she could repay yas fah savin' 'er life, almost everyone knows dat, 'xept she nevah wanted _you_ ta find out an' get all upset. She's happy now." he explained turning her around to face him, his hands on her shoulders.

  
Silver sighed gently removing his arms from her. She knew of Toity's crush on him and did not want to make her think anything that was not true. 

That night she spent up on the roof of the Lodging House, thinking about what Blink had told her. She could not process the fact that her friend lived only to repay her. How close had they gotten to each other in such a short time and it was all over. She quietly sobbed leaning against the brick chimney. Silver buried her face in her knees, wetting her skirt with her tears, she cried herself to sleep. 

When Silver had not come down after eleven, Bottle Cap informed Cajun. He quietly made his way up the fire escape and as soon as he was on the roof, spotted the girl curled up by the chimney. He walked over to her, seeing that she was asleep and sat down beside her, wrapping his arm protectively around her shoulders. He pulled her closer to him waking her up.

"Wha…?" she mumbled sleepily

"Go to sleep, chere" he shushed her, gently guiding her head with his hand to rest on his chest.

* * *

Days passed quickly, turning into weeks, weeks into months. Silver Fists slowly came out of her sulking. She still grieved about Cara's death, but she had to move on in life. Many of her friends finally got together with their crushes, Toity and Blink happily among them. She still loved Cajun dearly, but would not allow him any closer to her but as her pretend brother. The two were inseparable, but they had not even shared a second kiss as the year passed. 


	8. Part VII

****

Part VII

"Hey Silvah, how's it rollin?" Blink called out from his place in line.

Silver Fists was too far from the Distribution Centre to answer, but her beaming smile needed no explanation. Snow fell lightly from the sky, covering the street with a thin, soft blanket of white. In about an hour the streets would be filled with people hurrying to work and about their business and trample the beautiful snow, but for the moment, it carelessly lay all around. The only thing Silver loved more about winter besides the holidays, was the snow. Entering the gates of the Distribution Centre, she brushed off a few snowflakes off their ironwork.

" Hey Blink, Toity's on 'er way. She couldn't find a coat dat wouldn't 'make 'er look odd', so she's holdin' mosta da oddah goils behind, tryin' deahs on" she smiled up at the boy. 

"'S True wid 'er too?" impatiently inquired a well-built boy, Alley, new to Manhattan. Jack's sister, True, brought him over from Brooklyn for a while, while the two new lovebirds got to know each other better. His expression quickly changed as her small hands covered his eyes. Silver moved away from them, to get her newspapers. Skittery graciously allowed her to go before him, but she did not even notice him as she scanned the road outside of the gates for her selling partner.

More newsies arrived. A fairly noisy group of girls walked together, Toity having finally found a coat, which was quite simple, but seemed to satisfy her. Most of the older girls were greeted by their boyfriends, the single and the younger ones taking their chance to buy newspapers while they still could. Little Posey walked holding Dewy's hand. Seeing Racetrack lighting up a fresh cigar nearby, Dewy forgot the little girl and happily ran to him, her double French braids, timidly peeking out from beneath a heavy scarf on her head. Posey, slowly realizing she had been abandoned, walked toward Silver Fists.

"Yas shouldn't be out in dis weathah dressed so lightly" _Yas shouldn't be out in dis weathah at awl, yas should be 'ome wid a lovin' family_ Silver addressed Posey.

"But dat's awl I'se got, an' I'se hun'gy…an' de ol' man in de 'ouse needs me money" the little girl said firmly, grabbing tight hold of Silver's pant leg.

"Alright, yas c'n come wid me t'day, but we'se gotta wait fah Cajun foist" Silver smiled handing the child a thin stack of her own newspapers. The two followed the rest of the crowd out onto the street. "Dat reminds me…who's seen dat bruddah a mine dis fine mornin'?" she shouted over the voices of her friends.

"Mornin' Silvah." came Jack's voice behind her. " 'E ast me ta tell yas 'e had some t'ings ta take care a, 'e's gonna meet yas at Tibby's at seven t'night" he gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze and disappeared into the mele of newsboys and girls heading out for the day's work.

* * *

"Don' stay up too late, y'heah?" commanded Silver Fists to five small girls in the bunkroom. They all nodded vigorously and went off into a corner to play with some marbles.

__

Wondah wheah 'e had ta go t'day…Wondah 'f 'e remembahd me boiday, nobody else did…seventeen yeahs in dis woild as a t'day an' nobody said nuttin.

She pulled on the gray shirt that Cara used to wear and over it, an old, torn jacket. She ran down the stairs adjusting the belt of her navy pants.

"Hey Klopp, what's da time?" she yelled out almost tripping off a stair.

"Seven ten" he managed to say as she ran past him, cussing at herself for being late.

She ran out onto the street pulling her gray cabby hat over her loose curls. The bitterly cold wind stung her cheeks and tossed her hair as she raced in the direction of Tibby's, deciding to take a shortcut. The snow sparkled on the ground, where it hadn't been trampled to slush. Her boots slipped on a patch of frozen mud as she turned into an alley and she almost fell, grabbing on to the wall in the last moment. She did manage to twist her ankle, but ignored the pain, resuming her run. The alley was wide and no danger seemed to lurk there. Thus, Silver Fists, picked up her pace sprinting towards the small restaurant that she could see across the wide road at the end of the alley. Silver kept her eyes glued to the lit-up windows of the restaurant, not looking where she was going. Suddenly the toe of her boot caught on some debris sticking out of the snow and she tripped over it, flying into the air and landing on an uneven patch of ice. She fell hard, hitting her right knee more, the impact sending her face down onto the ground. She lay therefor a few moments, coming back to her senses. She pulled herself up to a kneeling position, but could barely bend her right leg, She turned over, sitting in the middle of the ice patch, massaging her knee. The pain was dull, but it felt as if there was fire beneath the kneecap.

* * *

"Where is she?" Cajun impatiently glanced out of Tibby's window.

"She'll come, da little kids prolly gave 'er a bit of a haid time behavin'" assured him Mush sitting in a booth nearby, his arm resting on Hades' shoulders.

All of the Manhattan and even a couple of Brooklyn and Queens newsies were all crammed into the small restaurant. They had all been gathered by Cajun for Silver Fists' surprise birthday party. Jack left Sarah's side in Mush's booth and came up to Cajun, to look outside.

"She's prolly gonna come outta behind dat cornah any second now. She nevah missed a date wid yas b'foah" he grinned innocently patting his shoulder as he said the last words.

"Cowboy, me an' petite is just close friends, frere an'soeur, as she prefers to t'ink. Das da only way I'll ever be close ta 'er, she'd never date me." Cajun retorted honestly, not tearing his eyes away from the street corner Jack had pointed to earlier.

* * *

Silver Fists struggled to stand up, but doing so she slipped again, awkwardly twisting her hurt knee and hearing it crack sickeningly. The pain increased, the burning mixed with sharp stabs whenever she moved her leg even a hair's width. She crawled on her stomach towards a nearby fire escape, with which she could pull herself up. Her clothes were completely soaked, a thin layer of frost forming on them in the freezing cold. She grabbed the black railing of the fire escape and with all the strength in her arms, pulled herself to stand on her good leg. Using the fire escape for support, she hobbled over to the wall. She forced herself to keep going, despite the hellish pain springing tears to her eyes.

* * *

"Seven twenty eight" Cajun mumbled glancing at the clock on the far wall. 

Many of the guests had already ordered their food, unable to wait any longer, they did not leave though, no matter what, Silver Fists was still their friend.

"Cajun, what's dat?" Spot pointed to an alley across the road, staring to figure out what it was.

Cajun peered into the darkness and his eyes widened in horror. He saw a pitiful figure pull itself up from the ground using the railing if a fire escape. He watched for a few moments as the figure hobbled up to a wall and then raced out of the restaurant. Surprised, Spot followed him, pulling out his cane just in case.

* * *

"Mon Dieu petite!" was all Cajun could squeeze out, identifying the figure.

"Who's da scab dat hoit ya?" exclaimed Spot, hearing Cajun's words.

Silver almost jumped onto her friend. His strong arms grabbed her about the waist, holding her up. Spot slipped her arm behind his neck and Cajun did the same with the other. The two held her up by the waist, quickly realizing she could not walk.

"I'se tripped an' fell onto some ice an' me knee don' woik now" Silver responded to their silent question. 


	9. Part VIII

****

Part VIII

The next morning, the girls of the Manhattan Newsboys Lodging House moved about silently. Even Timber and Aki did not make any snide, yet friendly comments at each other. The girls threw concerned glances in the direction of a bottom bunk near the door where the body of Silver Fists lay in feverish nightmares. She had insisted to stay at Tibby's the night before with all her guests and celebrate her birthday, despite her injury and shivering from being out in the cold. When Cajun and Spot brought her back to the Lodging House, she assured everyone she was fine and that she needed no doctor, after all, she could not afford one anyway. When Bottle Cap, a sweet new girl, who had quickly befriended Silver, heard the girl's ravings in the morning, she immediately ran out to get Kloppman. While the rest got dressed, the loyal girl was sent by Kloppman to fetch a doctor.

"She's in heah Dr. Drew. Clear out!" her last words were directed at the newsgirls. 

Bottle Cap was so worried, she forgot all about being courteous, but nobody took it against her. All the newsgirls were like sisters, and worried about each other greatly if something happened to them. They all swarmed outside the bunkroom door, peering in to make sure they heard everything the doctor said. 

"Well…her fever's terribly high and her knee's swelling. I believe there is a tissue tear inside, but I am afraid there is nothing I can do to help with that. It will have to heal on its own, she has to use that leg as little as possible, and even then, she will most likely never be able to walk well again." the doctor concluded after extensive observations. Both, his appearance and rather unsure deductions, proved that he had little experience doctoring. Unfortunately, he was all Bottle Cap could find. 

Dr. Drew talked a little while with Kloppman in the lobby after Bottle Cap and the other girls all the girls pitched in to pay him with all the change they could spare. 

Silver lay in bed, the fever burning her body. Her asleep was restless as memories flooded her tired mind.

__

'Hehe, Joe, stop it!' giggled a small, wide-eyed girl.

Her and a small, slightly chubby boy sat in a pile of sand. He kept trying to get at her side and tickle her, but every time she had managed to squirm away laughing.

'Children! Lunchtime!' called out a pale blonde woman in her forties. 

That was Joe's mother. She used to be like family to Alisha, whose real mother died giving birth to her one frosty January morning. Joe and Alisha bounded up to her receiving and hungrily biting an apple each.

Silver mumbled incoherently as the pleasant memories of her toddler-hood, which had crawled out from the back of her mind, warped into those of her school years.

__

'Joe! Stop it!' angrily screeched a developing twelve-year-old girl. 

She ran towards her 'friend', tripping a few times over the edge of her nice school skirt. Joe was in an alley near the school, beating up a boy that Alisha had shyly given her consent to for being his girlfriend.

'…An' nevah come neah her again!' spat Joe as Alisha dragged him off the poor boy. She did not manage to run up to him to make sure he was not hurt too badly, since Joe had grabbed her by the waist and roughly pulled her away. 'Nobody is woithy a bein' close to such an' angel like youse' he whispered in her ear with mock lust.

It was him, who had scared people away from being friends with her; he threatened everyone whenever Alisha was not around, pushing them away from her. He wanted her all to himself. After the incident with her boyfriend she did not speak to him for a long while, spending her time bonding with her father. Her father, Dr. Andrew Sherway, loved her dearly, and gladly taught her everything he could about being a doctor and how to treat many illnesses and hurts. Many times he would tell her mother, as they would spend their evenings snug in their small apartment. He would go on about her for hours, telling Alisha how beautiful and out of the ordinary her mother was, much like her. On her fifteenth birthday, her father handed her a small jewelry box, filled with eight differently carved and shaped silver rings. Dr. Sherway handed it to her wrapped into a plain white bandanna that he had cherished for a long time and wanted her to have. Since that day, the bandanna would never leave her neck, and the rings would always adorn her fingers whenever she was home.

Dreams and memories faded through Silver's mind, throwing her into fits of feverish thrashing and lapses of unconsciousness. Bottle Cap faithfully sat by her bunk, Toity joining her with a small breakfast. The two girls took to caring for Alisha "Silver Fists" Sherway, as she had once taken care of Cara Kathryn "Temper" McCaleigh. Everyone else was forced out of the Lodging House to go to work, despite how much they worried for their friend. Cajun would run in every twenty minutes, his eyes filled with grim sorrow. Spot had not left for Brooklyn at all, staying to help, no matter how much the other two girls tried to get him to go.

"C'mon, yer killin' us, petite, just open up your eyes, say yer going t'be fine, chere…you don' deserve to be hurtin' like dis, you never done nobody harm, to be payin' for it like dis." Cajun begged when he came by again. He murmured on in French, taking a cool cloth from Toity's hand and gently wiping Silver's forehead. He gently pressed the cloth to her skin, the cold water calming her wild trashing. 

Relieved by the cool of the cloth, Silver's nightmares and exaggerated dreams turned into one detailed memory.

__

'Papa, what're ya doin' up so eily?' Alisha had picked up the heavy accent from at the poor school she had attended since the age of seven. 

It was a nice summer day. Alisha was already sixteen then, and stood at a good five feet, seven and a half inches and was the envy of many girls due to her curvy figure. She tucked her loose curly hair behind her ear and stared surprised at her father, who had already taken a seat at the table and ate his breakfast.

'It's my first day at the medical office, I wanted to spend some time with my daughter to make the day perfect' he smiled at her, his kind blue eyes sparkling happily.

Alisha hugged her father tightly, inwardly bounding with joy that he still wanted to spend time with her, despite the important day ahead of him. 

'I'm treating Joe's mother, I was told.' he put in as the two walked down the street. He-to work, she-to school.

'But ain't she too sick fah any treatment?' nosed Alisha

'Yes, but she still has faith in me' he stated a little unsure in himself as the two parted.

Alisha's day went wonderfully, she was too happy of her father's attention to notice anything unusual around her. Joe had not gone to school that day. 

"Papa…" Silver moaned as Cajun wiped her brow, holding her burning hand with his free one, while the girls rested a little.

__

'I'll be home late tonight' Dr. Sherway solemnly told his daughter. 'I'm afraid Joe's mother only has an hour to live.'

Alisha went home, rocked by what her father had told her. The old woman had been like a mother to her. Her entire day's happiness was replaced with grief. She stayed up late, waiting for her father. She curled up on the velvet couch in his large white shirt with vertical blue stripes and her navy pants staring at the wall clock, but even by eleven o'clock, he was still out. She pulled on a pair of old, mid-calf, lace-up boots. She threw on an old jacket and swung open the door, only to face a horrifying sight. Joe stood right outside, grinning wickedly, fire cruelly illuminating his face. The flames licked hungrily at the dry doorway of her apartment. Alisha quickly slammed the door, the fire momentarily glinting off her rings. She ran into her small bedroom frantically throwing any pieces of clothing she could find into a small bag.

When she ran back into the living room, the fire had already spread inside and over to the couch she had been lying on a few moments ago. Too afraid of Joe and the fire, Alisha burst out of the living room window onto the fire escape, blindly racing away from the inferno, in the rush forgetting to grab any money.

"Shh petite, je suis ici avec toi." Shh, little one, I am here with you. whispered Cajun as Silver's grip tightened on his fingers. He spoke soothingly as he brushed off a few strands of sweat-soaked hair from her forehead.

Spot stood nearby. He looked at the young man Silver held so dear to her heart. Everyone knew how much he loved her, like a man loves a woman, but her feelings were well hidden. All anyone knew was that to her, he was just her big brother. Though maybe, she did not feel the same for him, and would give him, Spot, a chance. After all, almost every other girl in the city would, and with him, Silver would be safe from anything her past decides to throw at her.

"Remy?" came a faint, groggy whisper, interrupting Spot's thoughts.

"Oui, soeur, I am right here" he said softly, stroking her cheek and leaning over her so she could see him better.

That was Spot's cue to run out of the bunkroom to fetch Bottle Cap and Toity.

"Joe tried ta kill me before ya found me" she whispered, her fever dying down.

"Well, de cochon is in de refuge now" Cajun carefully pulled her up to sit and gave her a hug. "He will not hurt you ever again, belle."


	10. Part IX

****

Part IX

Silver Fists stayed in bed for almost a month, her leg unable to support her weight at first. Her friends tried treating her the same as before, but her disability got in the way. She could not get up and chase after anyone who would playfully steal any of her belongings, or could not go for lunch to Tibby's. This made her feel useless and angered her terribly, she even tried beating Sport up once, the girl, a tall pretty blonde, with a passionate crush on Spot Conlon. She had offered the girls to go for a visit to Brooklyn and maybe for a swim, the mention of swimming upsetting Silver. But as the month dragged on, the girl got used to being nailed to her bed, and the rest got used to treating her as everyone else, while not stressing her disability. Dr. Drew came to check on her every week, he may have been young, but very dedicated to his work; he even dropped the price for the poor girl. On his third visit, he announced that Silver could start walking again, with the help of a pair of crutches. He had offered her an old, worn pair, it was all he had that was affordable, but since all of her money had gone to paying him for his visits, Cajun paid for her. The boy had been growing closer to her ever since the night of her injury. Instead of playing poker or going out with the rest of the newsboys after selling, he spent all his evening by her bunk. He told her of the goings on outside of the lodging house walls and even tried teaching her some of his native tongue, French. 

Silver Fists fell deeper in love with him by the hour he spent with her, but could still not let him know. Despite the fact that Joe was locked away, she still felt that he would face danger the moment she would agree to be his girl. She slightly regretted the news that Dr. Drew brought her, for it meant that now Cajun would not have to spend all his time with her, after all, she could take care of herself.

* * *

On Valentine's Day the inhabitants of the Manhattan Newsboys Lodging House were invited to Irving Hall for a celebration and a dance. Irving Hall was owned by a Miss Medda Larkson, a good friend of Jack's and fake Swede, really, she was a friend of any good-natured newsie.

With the help of her crutches, Silver Fists slowly made her way down the creaky stairs of the Lodging House. She was finally able to join her friends outside of the bunkroom. Cautiously, she stepped out, letting all her friends out before her. The February wind gently bit her cheeks and played with her loose hair. It was still light out, unlike the night she last left for a party. She took a sharp breath and carefully walked out of the door and down the stone front steps. Bottle Cap and Toity were the last of the newsgirls to leave with her. The walked on either side of Silver making light conversation and joking about. Had Silver not had crutches, things would have seemed to be back to normal, alas, that was not the case. The other girls: Squibble, Hades, Dewy, Blaze, Aki, Timber, Spin, Relic True and Sport, walked ahead of the three laughing and talking giddily, in anticipation of meeting their dates and having a great evening. 

The company was greeted by the newsboys in the lobby of the theatre and everyone quickly took their seats at the tables set up around the dance floor. A cleared off area around the stage served as the dance floor, where some couples already twirled happily.

While everyone talked to Silver, glad to have her out of the bunkroom, Cajun quietly admired her sitting by her side. He smiled inwardly noticing color flooding her cheeks once again and her freshly washed hair falling to her shoulders in soft, large curls. Her gray-blue eyes sparkled healthily as joy of being out with all her friends filled them. Her silvery laugh was music to his ears and her soft smile, the most beautiful thing on earth. 

"Excuse moi, petite, but I need ta talk t'you" he finally brought himself to whispering into her ear. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he pointed at the door to the lobby with his eyes.

Silver understood momentarily. Heavily leaning on her crutches, she followed her friend out, leaving all her other companions a little confused at the table. The newsies did not wait long, though as the band started playing a new song, pulling everyone to their feet. 

Meanwhile, Cajun led Silver to sit on the steps leading to the balcony of the theatre. Cajun glanced around; making sure nobody would interrupt their conversation and then took a seat beside her.

"Yes, frere, is something wrong?" Silver Fists looked at him intently.

"Ye-…non…hmm, Je suis confuse I am confused, dat kiss, chere…back in Brooklyn…I just t'ought it meant sumt'in' to you" he said, looking away embarrassed.

"It did." Silver responded plainly, looking away shyly herself.

"Den why is we still playing like frere an' soeur, when we could be une couple?" Cajun stole a glance at her, trying to read her expression.

"Because dat's all we kin be. Yas seen what happens to people dat grow too close to me…I'se don't wancha dead, how many times do I'se gotta tell yas dat?" hurt and confusion drew over her face.

"Please belle, you is being paranoid, I promise dat nobody gon' hurt us." he slipped down onto a lower step, kneeling before the girl "J'aime tu…I love you Alisha" he cupped her hands in his, hope radiating from him.

"Maybe one day, Remy, but not now." she sighed, gently easing her hands free. Silver gave Cajun a tender kiss on the cheek and shakily got up. "I'se sawry as kin be Cajun, now please, stop wastin' yer time on me…go find yasself a goil woithy a you"

Silver slowly hobbled back into the main hall, leaving her best friend behind. Dumbstruck, he sat on the step, unable to process the rejection. He cradled his head in his hands thinking over what the girl had told him. _She _does_ love me though, else she wouldn't worry bout me getting' hurt so much._ He sat thinking for quite some time, oblivious to everything, he did not even notice as a girl took a seat beside him.

"Why so glum, monsieur Senlui?" questioned a velvety female voice.

"How do-…oh, bonjour, long time no see, Odile, non?" Cajun recognized the girl right away. They used to live in the same neighborhood, before he was sent away to French boarding school.

"Remy, Remy, it is Deacon now…et I believe your parents would say de same t'ing…mais, dey is gone now" she informed, her French accent giving her upbringing away.

Cajun gave the girl an intent look, trying to figure out if she was lying or not. "What do you mean?"

"Dey is moved after dey found out you ran away. Dey had people look for you, but a year passed an' you still was gone, so dey moved to de boarding school getting small jobs wid watchin' de children I believe. Dey t'ought dat if ya was comin' back, you would go back dere. Je ne sais pas I do not know what 'appened to dem after." she explained moving closer to him. "Don' worry Remy, Deacon won't tell dem…if ya fin'ly agree ta be me beau." she whispered cunningly wrapping her elegant arms around his.

__

Good God, she still has not given up. Maybe I can be wid her a little, she's pretty, she's French an' she ain't runnin' away from me an' if I do, me parents won't know bout me. Although Alisha is de only girl for me, maybe it is not yet time for us…Cajun thought as the girl happily kissed him.

* * *

"Hey, what's wid Cajun, I t'ought yas two was glued to echuddah or sumtin'" nosed Timber sipping on a sarsaparilla.

"I tol' 'im ta do it." Silver answered glumly, suddenly feeling unwelcome in the theatre. 

Silver Fists followed Timber's piercing gaze. She saw Cajun right away, talking lightheartedly to some girl at a table for two. She gave him credit, he had chosen quite well. The unknown girl seemed like she could be taller than Silver, and she was obviously much prettier. Her face radiated foreign beauty, her finely chiseled features perfectly placed on her slim face. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes gazed at Cajun lovingly and a gorgeous smile showed off her perfect teeth and crimson lips. Her raven black hair glistened down her back. She had no scars; everything about her was perfect. The sight of her together with Remy sickened Silver, despite the way she had rejected him an hour earlier. She loved Remy from the bottom of her heart and jealousy burned inside her, but there was no other way for him to be safe and happy. He could never know how much she really wanted to be with him. She stared at the couple, figuring out that they spoke French, by the way their lips moved and sighed heavily, they were too much alike. Tearing her eyes away from the two when the new girl moved closer to Remy, Silver wordlessly got up and headed for the door. She looked back once and seeing the girl cuddle close to her friend, defeat engulfed her. Head bowed, and shoulders hunched she hobbled away from the party, noticed by nobody but one boy.


	11. Part X

****

Part X

"Hey, Silvah wait up!" shouted a male voice from the main doors of Irving Hall.

The wind howled in the streets, tossing up snow from the ground and twirling it about her feet. Silver Fists barely heard the call and paused in her tracks, looking over her shoulder to see who it was. She did not recognize the boy until he had run up right beside her and was holding his hand out for a spitshake.

"Why aincha at da celebration, Spot?" she inquired pulling her glove off and returning Spot's gesture of friendship.

"Coz deah ain't nuttin' much ta do since all de guys is wid deir goils. 'S like de whole place is fulla wusses." he responded smirking. "I'se seen yer 'frere' wid dat new broad a his, so I'se guessed ya wouldn't be wantin' ta stay deah. I'se don't want no fights heah when I'se gone in Brooklyn, so howsabout ya come wid me?" Spot sounded so much like a simple boy, not the fear-inspiring leader of the toughest newsies in New York, it was a little odd to Silver, but she still agreed.

* * *

Spot quietly stepped into his room. It was rather unusual for him to be careful of not waking anyone when entering his private quarters, yet the situation in itself was rather unusual. The door clicked shut behind him as he made his way to a bunk bed that stood nearby. On the lower bunk slept a girl of seventeen, her face beautifully lit up by the moonlight streaming in through the only window in the room, opposite the bed. She looked so peaceful and serene, her dark brown curls cascading over her pillow, a faint shadow of a smile playing on her lips. But like a shadow, her smile disappeared moments later. She curled up into a tight ball, mumbling incoherently. Spot, who had turned away to pull his shirt off, glanced over his shoulder at his friend. Shirtless, he walked up a little closer to her bunk and was able to distinguish such words as "danger" and "kill yas" from her mumbling. He reached for her shoulder, but hesitated to shake her awake for a moment, he was quite sure she was having a nightmare, but did not know if waking her was the best idea. 

"Wake up!" he whispered loudly, finally deciding to grab her shoulder. 

Still partially asleep, and horrified at what she had dreamt, Silver quickly pulled away, rashly pulling her knees protectively to her chest. Immediately, she let out a yelp of pain and her eyes shot open, filling with tears. Realizing his mistake Spot pulled her up to sit on the bunk, helping her straighten her legs out. He was not sure how to help otherwise and sat on the edge of the bunk beside her, as she quickly massaged the pain away. 

"I'se sawry, dinna mean ta do dat" he asked, a note of worry in his voice, then covered his slip with a careless "Yas was makin' a lotta noise, dinna wancha ta wake up nobody downstaihs, an' I'se wouldn'ta been able ta go ta sleep eidah."

"Well, me apologies your highness" she hissed back sarcastically.

"Yas alwight?" he frowned, nobody had the right to answer him like that, but he couldn't bring himself to teaching her a proper lesson for her rudeness.

"I'se dunno, but why youse caeh anyway?" Silver grumbled still rubbing her knee.

"Coz yas me friend, an' also me responsibility while yas heah in Brooklyn" he replied coldly. Inside he worried about her, his heart aching to see her hurt, but he could not let his real feelings surface. He could not let her know he was not made of nails and that he had a weakness. _Then again,_ he mused, _it's been too long, an' now dat she's been livin' heah wid me fah t'ree months, maybe she's already figured it out._ Silencing any small voices of doubt, he made up his mind and with a mischievous grin slipped his hand over hers on her knee. "Deah are a coise oddah reasons…"

"Spot, don' even t'ink bout it" Silver warned, growing tense.

Her warning came too late. In a flash his hand was on the back of her neck holding her tightly in a passionate kiss. He pulled her closer to himself glad to finally have such a moment. It did not last long. Surprised and a little scared, Silver harshly pushed Spot away, something he did not expect.

"My Gawd, Spot! I'se come heah to keep meself away from someone dat likes me, so he don't get hoit, an' ya use it fah yer advantage?" she fumed "I'se not some wench off da street, I'se yer friend, an' ya treat me like dat?"

"Well, I'se had ta tell youse some time" he responded softly. She shot him a venomous look, but he did not give up responding with a grin that could have melted any other girl's heart. "C'mon Silvah, yas know dat Cajun dinna like you 'nuff, if he did, he wouldn'ta gone aftah liddle 'mademoiselle' Odile. But me, I'se kin treat yas right" he rambled on.

"Spot, shut up, yas know dat Cajun nevah liked anuddah goil but me _dat_ way, but I'se made 'im look fah someone else, coz dat's de only way 'e's shoah ta stay alive." She kicked Spot off her bunk with her good leg. She jumped off the bed after, standing over him, for once completely oblivious to the pain "Nevah say dat he dinna like me 'nuff, coz he did. As fah youse, yas me friend, dat's awl. Yas kin have any goil ya see, so do dat, Sport's available…"she trailed off realizing how threatening her voice sounded. 

Spot just sat there on the floor, staring confused at the only girl that had not subsided to his charms and now scolded him like a child. He did not get angry though, just stood up and apologized for what he had done, somewhat confused.

Realizing her sudden outburst and possible consequences, Silver quickly apologized herself, helping her friend up off the floor.

"I'se should prolly leave now, huh, Spot?" she asked staring at her bare feet. 

She heard Spot spit in his palm and saw his hand stretch out to her as a gesture of forgiveness. She pulled off a glove spitting into her own palm and returning the gesture.

"Yeah, but don't t'ink I'se kickin' yas out, jis suggestin' yas go home, dey's prolly awl miss yas." he said tilting her head up with his thumb so she would look into his eyes "We'se gonna miss yas heah too, so if yas evah feel like swimmin' yas always welcome heah in Brooklyn." he finished with a serious smirk as she gratefully nodded her head.

Quickly Silver pulled on her boots and collected her few belongings. With the help of her worn crutches she made her way to the window and with a little difficulty, opened it and climbed out. Spot watched her standing rooted to the middle of the room. He knew better than to try and help her and make her feel useless, and besides he had to keep up a cold front for the first girl to ever reject him. He listened to the slow tapping of the girl's crutches on the iron stairs of the fire escape. He peered out of the window and watched her slowly hobble down a wood platform over the river, dropping her knot of belongings by the rope ladder, laying down her crutches and removing her boots. He took a seat on the windowsill of the opened window, the soft spring breeze caressing his shirtless torso. He saw her roughly wipe a few tears out of her eyes with the back of her hand and leaving her gloves with her other things, dive into the inky black water. Without moving a muscle he watched her swim non-stop for almost twenty minutes. After, she pulled herself out of the water and put her boots back on. It was a warm end-of-May night and Spot was sure she would be all right and not catch a cold. Throwing a last glance at Spot's window, Silver frowned seeing him there and visibly shrunk, bowing her head ashamed of revealing her anger by swimming. She groped the knot of her things at the same time holding on to her crutch and slowly hobbled off the platform. 

Spot's gaze followed her and rested on the place he watched her turn the corner for a few minutes. He left his seat on the windowsill as soon as the tapping of crutches on cobblestone was deafened out by the quiet of the night city.

* * *

Silver took a deep breath as her hand closed about the door handle of the Manhattan Newsboys Lodging House. She made a mental note to herself that it was about time to change the name, after all, there were quite a few girls living inside too. Gently, she pulled the door open and stepped inside. Only a small stub of a candle flickered by the sign-in book on old Kloppman's desk. Making her way as quietly as possible to the desk, she pulled a nickel out of her pocket to pay for the night and glanced at the clock on the wall, one o'clock in the morning. She added the time beside her name on the page and placed the nickel underneath the thick book. About to head to the bunkroom, she turned back to the book adding "figured out that I should not act so far away when really, I am close." as a side note in neat print.

****

THE END


End file.
